Partisan Politics
by Cant make up a good name
Summary: When England notices America's absence from an urgent meeting, he decides to investigate. But when his curiosity leads him to discover something he never knew about America, will he get more than he bargained for? Rated T for language. Two-shot. A fic all Americans can laugh about.
1. Chapter 1

**In the spirit of the current election cycle, I found it appropriate to post this on the eve of the opening of the DNC. Was supposed to be a one-shot, but I have a quiz in the morning. I will post the final part soon.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hetalia series or its characters. They are the creations of Hidekazu Himaruya. However, if he wishes to use any OC's I create, he has my consent.  
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It was a hot, sticky September day in Washington, D.C. and, to the unaccustomed outsider visiting the city, the humidity could literally suck the breath out of a person. To stand in the middle of this unbearable weather in dark professional attire and no shade in the immediate vicinity, was utter madness. Collapse from heat exhaustion would be inevitable. But this is exactly the situation a certain blond-haired, green-eyed Brit found himself in.

England had been in the capital city on a foreign relations assignment with orders from his boss to discuss matters of international security with one of his closest allies. The current state of foreign affairs had run amok over the past year, what with all the tension between Israel and Iran, the economic crisis in Europe, and Russia playing his hand in the Syrian conflict. However, when England began the first of a series of meetings to discuss possible solutions to these extraordinary problems, he couldn't help but notice the apparent absence of his most gracious host. That's right; America, the lively oaf hosting these meetings, was nowhere to be seen during the course of the discussions. England had been most aggravated at the time, wondering why in the world his bloody git of an ally would skip out on matters of such importance. _Oh that's right, he's a bloody git._ Still, shocking as it may be, England simply couldn't accept this as the reason America would blow off these meetings. As irresponsible and immature as America was, he was not one to be late for an official meeting; rather, he would often be quite early. He had many grandiose ideas on how to "save the world" and would be chomping at the bit to share them; so it was surprising to England that America hadn't used this as an opportunity spout off about heroes and the like. As such, England found himself worried for the well-being of America and decided he would visit his good friend's home to see what the situation was with him.

And that is how England got himself in this unenviable position. He was impatiently tapping his foot on the front patio of America's place of residence. He had just rung the doorbell for the _**third time **_and was quickly finding his patience to be running thin. It was hard to keep one's composure in this sweltering summer heat, and now, England's dress shirt was starting to hug at his back under the weight of all his sweat. It felt as if the damn thing was pasted to his skin and he cringed at the uncomfortable sensation. In spite of all of his good intentions, England had to be rewarded with a scorching afternoon sun fully intent on incapacitating him with a suffocating heat wave, and it looked as if there was no letting up. Global warming indeed, England couldn't wait for these meetings to be over so he could go back to his cool, cloudy paradise of London.

As England toyed with the idea of kicking down the large, Victorian oak barrier, he heard a sudden noise come from within the home. The sound of breaking glass piqued his curiosity and he cautiously let his hand turn the doorknob. Brilliant, the front door was unlocked. Now England could find his friend and finally put this whole mystery to rest. England opened the door, and what he found shocked him.

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**A/N: Alright, my first attempt at fan fiction. Was it good? Bad? Let me know what you guys think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**My apologies; _Seileach _left a review that pointed out a glaring issue. I read over the story again and couldn't understand how I'd let myself get so sloppy. I was so embarrassed that I immediately revised and re-uploaded the chapter. I also discreetly labeled any of England's inner thoughts as such to avoid causing any confusion among the readers. I realize that I use italics very liberally and I'll try to work on that, as too much of anything can be an eyesore. Again, I'll watch for these issues when writing any future stories and will certainly spend more time proofreading before publishing.  
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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hetalia series or its characters.**

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England couldn't believe his eyes, before him lay a field of absolute destruction. What was once America's lavish common room now resembled a devastated war zone. Whoever had vandalized the poor chap's home did a thorough job. What amazed England the most was how almost every inch of the home had endured some form of bad luck. It was a dreadfully large house, some may consider it a mansion, and yet every corner from the floors to the ceiling had sustained brutal punishment. There were plenty of holes in the walls and a majority of the crown molding had been ripped from the ceiling. England immediately noticed that the glass shards of an expensive chandelier were splayed across the hard wood floor of the entrance hall. They were everywhere, looking as though they were but a pack of marbles somebody had dropped. England turned his attention away from the chandelier and noted that the staircase leading to the second floor no longer had a guardrail.

England hesitantly wandered deeper into the house, obviously coming away with more questions than answers. He first surveyed the ravaged common room; it was a mess to say the least. Nearly every drapery had been torn from its hooks. The various loveseats and recliners were ripped, with their support springs shooting out like untended weeds; drawers had been overturned, and it seemed as though the coffee table had taken its shot at flight, being at a completely different side of the room since he had last visited. Papers and magazines were strewn everywhere, and England regretfully found out that you can learn too much about a man by the "monthly issues" he has stored away. England, much to his displeasure, also found that the carpet had been stained by what seemed to be motor oil. He sighed and shook his head; if there was one pet peeve of his, it was stains in the carpet. England took one more look over the carnage before going into the kitchen. From what he could see, the only other significant damage to the contents of the room had been to the tellie and the speaker systems. _Wait till the wanker sees that number_, the Brit thought smugly.

As England made his rounds in the kitchen, the damage he observed was predictable. Pots and pans littered the floor, the decorative furniture had been razed, and the pantry and fridge had been effectively raided. But worst of all, the only teapot in the house had been smashed to pieces! Blast, now England would never get his cup of Earl Grey. Deciding that he had seen enough, England decided on taking his chances in America's media room. After all, the Yank and his alien friend did spend a lot of time cooped up there with the lights turned off and horror classics gracing the plasma screen. Worse yet, their attention may be occupied by that damn game box. Could it be possible that America didn't even know of the atrocious state of his own house? England didn't put the possibility past him.

As England made his way for the stairs, he heard what he thought was munching. Curious… the sound was coming from - of course! _The master bedroom_. England mentally slapped himself as he ran towards America's sleeping quarters. And speak of the Devil himself, there sat America packing down hamburgers like today was his last. He was slumped over, not his usual chipper self. The childish glint was gone from his eyes, but England was too angry at him to care.

"Oi! America, I ought to kick you right in your bum!" England shouted quite threateningly. Needless to say, it got the nation's attention. America nearly made a new hole in the ceiling with the way he jumped. Wide eyed from shock, the best he could come up with was a pathetic, "England?" _Oh, he was going to have it_. England could feel a scolding rant cooking up inside, just ready to blow.

"Yes, I'm here. And why wouldn't I be? You completely blew me off for the meeting today and didn't even have the decency to call. Being rude and unprofessional will get you nowhere as the leader of the free world. Why, back in the day, if I'd ever – ugh, and then I come running over here just to catch you devouring hamburgers like a beast in this pigsty… I can't believe I wasted my entire afternoon over this pursuit. And what the _bloody hell_ happened to this place? It looks like a rat's nest that just got thrown into a jet turbine!"

America looked at England incredulously, apparently at a loss for words. England broke the silence, "Well, go on. I want answers. Why are you sitting here in your bedroom eating hamburgers?"

America took a deep breath, regaining his composure and gathering his strength to confront the belligerent Brit. "Look dude, I've just been having a rough day, kay? I eat more than usual when I'm under a lot of stress."

"That doesn't give you an excuse to skip a meeting." England countered. He could tell America felt bad about not showing up for the meeting. His eyes told the whole story, they gave an, _I'm so sorry_ sort of look. His body language shouted the same message. His shoulders were slumped and his back was leaning limply in a bout of shame. It hurt England to discipline America like this, but the child just wouldn't grow up.

America sighed, defeated. "I'm sorry about the meeting, it's just the house a-and I just couldn't make it."

"America, I can understand about the house, but you really should have called me. I could have helped you. Who caused this mess anyway?"

America visibly paled; he must have lost a shade or two from his already fair skin. He bit his lip, pondering how he should go about answering the question. Finally, he just sighed and mumbled with an air of exhaustion, "R-tard and D-bag."

"Excuse me?" England wasn't sure if he heard right. Were those real names?

America sighed again, obviously wanting to drop the subject. "You see, you know how I like animals and stuff right? Well, the whale isn't the only strange thing I've–". America never got to finish his explanation.

Just then, England heard what sounded like a broken brass horn. He suddenly noticed that the queerest thing started to happen. It seemed as if the entire house was vibrating. America obviously had his head screwed on straight because he took immediate action. He ran right out the door screaming like a prepubescent girl. England, on the other hand, just stood there confused as ever, until he noticed that the vibrating had bizarrely changed to shaking, and then to all out trembling. It seemed as if the tremor was coming from a particular location, just beyond the bedroom wall. England didn't know what came over him, but he found himself not thinking as he turned and followed America's example of fleeing out the door. And thank God he did.

The mini-earthquake had reached its crescendo as two massive bodies barreled through the wall. "By Jove" England muttered under his breath, too bewildered to realize that his bladder had just given way. There in front of him, causing whole boatloads of chaos, were two ferocious creatures chasing each other around the room in a mad frenzy. When England came out of his daze, he was able identify exactly what the intruders were.

England found it the strangest thing; there, fighting in the den, was an elephant and an ass intent on ripping each other's throats out. Now, it couldn't possibly get any stranger, but that's when England noticed particular characteristics about said animals.

First, both wore a different color of body paint; red for the elephant and blue for the donkey. Next, each had an assortment of accessories that were stylized in the colors of the star spangled banner. England saw bells and horns and flags, and just about any other device you could fit on an animal. He believed the donkey was even wearing a star-spangled top hat. Finally, he noticed the feature that truly hit home, each animal was proudly displaying the picture of an older gentleman. _The candidates running in America's current presidential election! _These animals were political activists?! England couldn't believe what he saw as both animals relentlessly attacked each other and destroyed the entire house in the process.

England quickly gathered his wits and went to find America. He found him huddled in the garage, rocking himself as if he were a preschooler who had just been told that his goldfish had died. England shook his shoulders violently as he shouted at him to get up. "Where did you get those beasts?" England seethed.

America was zoned out as if he didn't realize that England was there. However, he still responded, "I don't know, I just wanted to help them. Oh man, oh man, oh man."

"What do you mean you wanted to help them? Who in their right mind lets an elephant and a donkey stay in their home?"

"Dude, I was at the carnival; and there they were, just standing there in their cages all sad like. I just wanted to help! I'm the hero!"

"Good God" England groaned. "America, when will you ever learn?"

America looked as downtrodden as ever, just sulking there on the floor. England decided that enough was enough; America had to become accountable.

"Well America, you're the hero aren't you? Are you just gonna sit there while those wankers completely destroy your home? Or are you gonna fight back? The old America wouldn't have just stood there to see everything gone to hell. The old America would have lifted his sleeves and gone to kick to some arse."

America looked up, clearly moved by the pep talk. England carried on, "I remember a nation that used to pride himself on being tough as nails and cold as steel. Hardened grit was your way. You grew up faster than any other nation known to date. You took me on, your guardian, the mightiest empire the world had ever known; and you won! You, a mere colony, did what other nations could only have dreamed. You wore that like a badge of honor. Then, you expanded westward, Manifest Destiny giving you that burning desire for greatness. You trail blazed a path to the Pacific Ocean, and along the way you built the greatest railway system known to man. You forged your Rough Rider image on the frontier, fighting outlaws and hostile natives. You survived a civil war and two world wars. I remember those times, yeah, they were tough for you. But you never gave up; you fought through to the end. As you cleared each obstacle, you came out stronger than before. What happened to that America? What happened to the America that took on the Soviet Union, and dissolved him by just looking him dead in eyes? What happened to the America that became the world's sole superpower and oversaw the most prosperous time in modern history? Again I say, what happened to him! Well, I think I know what happened to him. I think he's sitting here right in front of me, a little down on his luck. I think he just needed a little motivation, for someone to give him a good, swift kick in the behind; to tell him to go do what he does best, to make him realize that he's the hero and he has a day to save."

At this point, America was standing tall and proud, careful to not let his emotions spill out of his eyes. The nation radiated power as a determined look and confident smile washed over his features. "You're right!" he said enthusiastically.

"You know damn well I'm right." England spurred on, calling out his inner Churchill.

"I took on everything life's ever thrown at me! I sure as hell won't let this break me!" America exclaimed.

England felt a certain pride stir within him. He didn't know where it came from, or why it was there, but he knew America was ready to take on the world, and England would be right there beside him every step of the way.

"Right! Now, I've got a super awesome plan that'll help us capture those wild animals once and for all!" America said excitedly.

England winced, he knew how well thought-out America's plans were. "Okay" England started warily, "What's this big plan of yours?"

America smiled, "I'll be the hero and you back me up!"

England swore he felt a vein pop. "You git! Do you always have to be this dense!" Before America could respond and take away whatever was left of England's self-control, he quickly grabbed the young nation by the shoulders. "Listen here you dunce, this is what we're going to do."

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England was in position, dressed oddly in some old Soviet rags. The hammer and sickle pinned to his chest was easily identifiable, and he knew this would make him a near blinking target. His hands were shaking from anxiousness as he waited for the plan to go into effect. He hoped to God this worked. If he did not execute this perfectly, there was a good chance he could be well acquainted with any of the small, woodland critters who happened to be reduced to road kill.

He heard a gunshot; and then saw America emerge, spewing some of his bravado. He looked smashing in his overalls and trucker's cap. "Hey jackass, yeah that's right, I'm talking to you blue man. You know what I like to do after popping some caps and swillin' some beer?" At this point, he had the donkey's full attention. _Bravo, that was clever. I hope I'll be able to think of something that witty once I'm up_, England earnestly thought to himself. "I like to deport me some illegals and kick helpless hobos around while I'm at it. And then, just to top off the night, I get my biggest, baddest, most gas guzzlin' monster truck primed and ready for some good old-fashioned tree smashin'! Woohoo! Just try and stop me you liberal, commie bastard!" As soon as America had taken off, the donkey was right on his tail. That left just England and the elephant.

England emerged from his place of hiding, shaking like a leaf. You never realize just how intimidating elephants really are until you've come under the glare of one of these giants. He tried to calm himself, and find the right words with which to enrage the beast. When he opened his mouth, nothing came out. "I should've gotten the donkey." England grumbled to himself. Just then, he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He looked closer and realized that a handle of some sort was caught in between one of the elephant's toes. _Wait a second, that's the bloke who destroyed the teapot! _A second or two after this realization, England's vision started to go red as blood rushed to his head. England trembled with an intense fury. He was so worn out, so thirsty; he wanted a damn cup of tea! "Oi, Dumbo! I've gotta big bag of socialism right here for you, you fat arse!" Before England realized what he had said, the elephant trumpeted angrily and charged.

England nearly forgot about the plan as he turned and ran for his life. Soon however, he had cleared his mind and focused on his task. He was to lead the animal to a hidden trap, a giant hole that he and America had dug near an old oak. England concentrated on his breathing so he wouldn't run out of oxygen. He sweated buckets as he heard the loud thumps of the elephant's paws. _There's the birch, now I just have to get past the fence and the oak is on the other side; I can make_ _it_, he mentally encouraged himself. England pushed as hard as he could, he only had a few more meters to go. Quickly, England scaled the fence and hopped to the other side, scanning for the oak. _It's not here! _England began to panic; he was running out of time, that elephant would break down the fence and be right on top of him. England thought fast, wondering where in the hell the trap could be. Suddenly, he heard a large _boom!_ as the elephant splintered the wooden fence. England was out of time, he had to act quickly. He found the nearest tree that even appeared to give him a chance at surviving and climbed it quickly. England neared the top of the thick tree as the elephant got to his position. What it did next didn't surprise him in the least. The elephant backed up a few meters before charging the tree. England grabbed on his branch for dear life as he let out a frightened scream. The elephant was either going to knock him out of this tree, or it was going to bring the whole thing down. Neither scenario presented a chance at survival for England, he knew it was over. All he could do was sit up in that damn tree and wait for it to fall. England fought a strain of tears trying to escape from his eyes, but he eventually lost that battle not really caring anymore. All he could think about was his impending doom.

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England had been sitting up in that tree for what seemed like hours now. He could feel his eyes drooping into a state of sleep, just to be woken up again by the elephant ramming the tree. This had been going on the entire night. _Doesn't that thing ever get tired? He might as well stop ramming it and just wait for me to fall out from exhaustion,_ England was just about to slip back into sleep when he heard a frightening sound. _Crack!_ The elephant had finally done it, the tree probably had a few more shots left to it before it came crashing down. England had prepared for this moment; he had been in this tree long enough to mentally ready himself for death. He closed his eyes as he felt another bone-rattling smash from the elephant. _Won't be long now, goodbye world._

As England braced himself for that one final hit that would bring the whole tree down, he was blinded by a bright light. Had he already died? He didn't feel dead. Suddenly, the blaring of a car horn brought him back to reality. He squinted his eyes in the direction of the light and made out a large figure in the distance. This also caught the elephant by surprise as it trumpeted an angry roar at the figure and charged. England watched as the elephant attacked its new foe. He heard the low roar of a diesel engine fire up, so it was a vehicle. The vehicle sped towards the elephant, both on a crash course for the other. Apparently, the elephant decided to bail on this game of chicken, as it turned a hard right, the vehicle hot on its trail. England soon found his vision adjusted for the dark and peered to see what kind of vehicle it was. It seemed like a large truck of some sort; the tires bulky and the shocks visible. It also had a familiar insignia decorating it; in a solid blue circle, there was a bird of prey with talons holding assorted objects and framed by a circle of stars. Where had England seen it before? _No__, it couldn't be._ But it was.

America had come to save the day, and he really wasn't lying about that monster truck! England wept tears of joy as he watched America drive that beast all the way to its damned hole. He couldn't believe his luck, America had done it! The day was over and England was still alive, and that was good enough for him. He quickly hopped down from the accursed tree and ecstatically kissed the ground. He'd never loved anything more in his life. The feeling of solid ground under his feet, it was enough to make him break down and bawl. But he would refrain from that because he saw his friend coming up the way to pick him up.

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England sat down comfy and cozy in one of America's lazy boys, happy that the day was over and he could finally rest. America brought him a gin and then sat down to a shot of whiskey. They held their cheers and drank their worries away. They sat there in the broken common room for quite a while, neither of them saying a word. They were glad that the job was done and that they had both come out safe. England was just about to doze off when America broke the long held silence.

"Listen England, I really wanted to thank you for coming over today; you know, having my back and all. I really don't know what I would've done without you and I just… really appreciate it."

England nodded smiling, "It was a really hard day, but I'd gladly relive it all over again. After all, what are friends for?" America smiled, toasting the remark before finally closing his eyes. Once America's breathing became relaxed and rhythmic, England knew he could finally get some much deserved rest. He needed it after all; there was a lot of work to be done on America's house. And then there were always the meetings, but they could wait. All that really mattered to England in that moment was his closing eyelids, his body relaxed as he snuggled into the chair and drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N: This chapter was actually kinda fun to write. I enjoyed delving into England and America's friendship. Also, I really enjoyed playing around with England as a motivational speaker. I don't think that would happen in canon though.**

**I hope everything made sense to all of you, especially those of you who aren't familiar with American politics. So, did I offend anybody of any political leaning? If I did, sorry. This was supposed to poke fun at what's going on right now. After everything we're going through, I figured normal Americans on both sides of the aisle needed something to laugh at.  
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**Please review and tell me what you think!  
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